


Eccentricity of the Day

by crieshavoc



Series: The Smile Jar [1]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Idiots, Old Fic, progeek, the smile jar verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:48:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crieshavoc/pseuds/crieshavoc
Summary: Rachel and her roommate, Cosima, begin to find a rhythm. Fall semester, freshman year. Smile Jar 'Verse.
Relationships: Rachel Duncan/Cosima Niehaus
Series: The Smile Jar [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061450
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Eccentricity of the Day

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is the original first installment of this verse. They're roommates, ya'll. I wrote this piece and posted it on tumblr in September 2014 (phew).

Rachel looks up from her text blandly, not particularly caring for the interruption. Her roommate is, she is finding, undeterred by silence and by staring contests. Said roommate leans over her own desk, butted up against Rachel’s, oddly dressed and over accessorized as usual, and smiling widely, also usual. What is _not_ usual is the large glass jar with a juvenile – no, _infantile_ – smiling face drawn in black marker on a piece of white paper, taped to the glass. Rachel mentally weighs the pros and cons of asking:

**Pro** – Cosima is clearly waiting for her ask what the jar is _for_ and asking will facilitate a return to both their studies;

**Con** – She doesn’t _care_.

“What is it?” Rachel looks back to her book, assuming her visual inspection of the jar need not continue now that she’s caved to her roommate’s _eccentricity of the day_.

Cosima sits, dragging her chair across the tile floor and chuckling when Rachel flinches at the sound. “It’s our smile jar.” She reaches, bracelets making the usual racket, for her computer and sets about her work without further explanation.

Ten minutes pass. Twenty. As the half hour approaches, Rachel finds that she is watching the clock more than reading, which is _certainly_ unusual. She looks up, quickly, but Cosima is engrossed in a lab report.

“Why do _we_ have a smile jar?” She doesn’t mean to exaggerate the word, but speaking of them as a _unit_ of any kind, roommates or not, is new.

“Because while I appreciate that you are an anti-social introvert with an extremely limited capacity for outwardly displaying emotion, you have a _really_ pretty smile and I like seeing it.” Cosima says this without looking at Rachel. She says this as she continues to write out her lab, glancing up at the information on her computer screen. “So anytime I do the _impossible_ and get you to smile, _you_ have to put a dollar in the jar. We can go for ice cream or something at the end of the year.” Cosima shrugs, still not looking her way, and flips to the next page of her packet.

Rachel _stares_ at her because it’s a ridiculous idea; because it’s a ridiculous idea delivered with _admirable_ nonchalance; because it’s a ridiculously sweet idea delivered with such nonchalance that Rachel is not entirely sure she’s _been_ complimented, while being _entirely_ certain it’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to her.

Cosima finally looks up, her pen raised in midair, “And there’s our first dollar. Go me.” She chuckles and goes back to work.

Blinking, Rachel realizes she _is_ , in fact, smiling. “You’re _weird_ , Cosima.”

“Yeah, I am, but you dig it.” Her roommate waves a hand dismissively.

Rachel shakes her head for a moment, bemused, but leans back in her chair all the same, grabbing her purse off her bed, and takes a dollar out of her wallet.


End file.
